Convicted
by angelps7
Summary: Voldemort is defeated and the light side has won. Harry sits in his Azkaban cell. His crime? Convicted of treason and murder, with conscience, mind, heart, sanity, health, etc. all still intact. And all of it is true. A challenge.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters!! All belong to JKR who is a goddess.

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**Convicted**

The evening was dismal, as always. How long it'd been since the sun had come out, he didn't know. The days, weeks, _months_ blurred together so well. But today, it burned; the sun.

The waves rocked and crashed, threatening- as he hoped would happen- to give way into the rock walls of Azkaban.

Stone was the sole substance in his cell. Not even some dirt to coat the ground. The sickening smell of salty waters mixed with the stench of rotting prisoners lingered in his nose, so much that he was used to it.

He adjusted his glasses, letting his fingers trace across the many scars carved into his pale, thin face, and finally resting on the zigzag scar on his forehead.

Time had not healed a single one of these scars, nor healed his emotions.

He wouldn't know what day it was, what _year_ it was, for only the crude markings on the wall reminded him.

One year and four days until he'd receive the Dementor's Kiss.

That meant seven years and 361 days he'd been in Azkaban.

And the crime was worth it, Harry thought fiercely.

A rattling sound drew his attention to the trap door in his cell door.

"Prisoner number 1204," croaked a hoarse voice. "Your dinner." And he slid through a molded piece of bread, about half the size of Harry's fist. He walked away laughing and cackling madly.

Harry stared dolefully at the bread, as he did everyday. This was his food every single day, except the occasional Fridays when they'd serve a strip of uncooked bacon as well. Earlier during his stay, his moldy dinner came wrapped in newspapers with headlines such as "Innocent or Condemmed?", "Politics or Truth?", "Golden Boy Convicted…" or even "Chosen One Sent to Azkaban".

He could care less.

Indeed, Harry had wasted away into a skinny, skeletal, unrecognizable being. Only the fire burning in his eyes kept him human.

Night fell and he glimpsed his last look at the sun.

In four days he'd be moved to the West Ward of Azkaban. The rooms with sealed windows, opened only to witness the setting sun and the dismal darkness of the night.

Reserved for those scheduled to be lifeless within the year.

But Harry had a plan. His opportune moment would be in those four days, during the switch. He had to be quick, or his timing would fail him, and his chance gone.

Seven years and 365 days would come down to this moment.

And so the day arrived. Morning came and Harry awoke to a rattling. He groggily rubbed his eyes with filthy, blackened hands.

"Number 1204! Heh… heh…" the feeder's voice cackled as his clunking footsteps died away.

Harry slumped against the wall as the heavy doors wretched open and cries of _Incarcerous_ immediately tied his hands in ropes. Three aurors grabbed him tight and dragged him forwards.

Harry neither fought nor winced.

He needed only two things; patience and timing. Patience not to be rash, and timing to be successful.

As he left his cell, he saw some familiar faces in the corridor.

"Potter," spat Percy. "Pleasure," he said disdainfully, eyeing Harry with clear hatred and disgust.

Harry ignored him, glaring at everyone as they led him down towards the West Ward, making sure to physically hurt him as much as possible.

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned away form him shamefully.

Harry only focused ahead, his mind on the moment they enter the empty space connecting the two wards. There, restrictions upon magic would be lifted. There, Harry Potter could escape.

It was not genius, not skillful, not heroic; but it would _work_.

Sure enough, the second they entered the space, Harry groaned loudly. The aurors and Percy all stopped to look at him, and in this split second, Harry was able to concentrate and disapparate.

Simple and foolproof. Harry found himself standing outside the doors of an ornate, enormous mansion. He raised his hand to knock, but the doors quickly drew open.

"Potter," drawled a familiar voice. "I knew I should be expecting you."

And for the first time in eight years, Harry grinned, his wasted features softening, showing bright green eyes and decaying teeth.

…………………………….

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**A/N**: Well, I wanted to post this before DH because then who knows what'll happen! I've got most of it planned out and I'm really excited about it, it's very different!! I hope you guys like it too, review please?

And question: do you think people will still read fanfics a lot even after Deathly Hallows?? I hope so… but I'd like to hear your opinions.. :)

Review please?


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